


In the Open Air

by whichstiel



Series: Season 12 Codas [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Running, The Raid - Freeform, also he likes eileen, and he has THOUGHTS about the British Men of Letters, episode coda, look this is the first time i've written sam, ooooooooooo, sam likes running, so...he likes running, spn 12x14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10091699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Sam fishes out his phone. It could be Dean with a case. It might be Mary with a Men of Letters mission. He's ready for both, he thinks, though it's been an adjustment every time he moves from one to the other. Sam smiles when he sees the notification on the lock screen.Eileen.





	

It's early. Sam's lungs are just starting to burn and air whistles through his teeth, cold enough to numb his gums if he leaves his mouth open too long. Fog curls through the fields and Sam runs along the network of animal paths, farm roads, and field paths he's mapped out, a different way every time, as randomly chosen as he can manage without actually feeding his routes through a randomizer. When he's running he can fold his mind down into the small world of his burning muscles and straining lungs. Out here in the open air, Sam feels less trapped.

He startles a flock of turkeys and they rush into the stubbled corn field, scolding him as they go. Sam watches the turkeys fleeing through the tousled rows, lost in the silent morning, so he stumbles a little when his phone pings. He pauses, breathing heavily, and fishes out his phone. It could be Dean with a case. It might be Mary with a Men of Letters mission. He's ready for both, he thinks, though it's been an adjustment every time he moves from one to the other. Sam smiles when he sees the notification on the lock screen.

_Eileen._

They've been texting for the past year and like a slow blooming rose, she's opened up in that time. At first they just traded tips – leads on cases, mostly. It took her a long time to do more than that. She wasn't kidding when she said she preferred to work alone. Still, Sam has been able to help her from time to time, raiding the bunker's collection of lore to send her information and once, to overnight a critical weapon. He feels closest to the Men of Letters legacy in those moments, enmeshed in research while another hunter stalks and fights and kills. It's not a bad setup, though he wishes Eileen would accept a partner occasionally. She seems to have no fear for her own safety; Sam thinks he probably has plenty for the both of them.

Eileen likes to send him pictures of weapons – interspersed with the occasional dog photo - and it looks like she sent an attachment. Sam swipes open his phone and takes a look. He laughs. It's a photo of a green smoothie.

> **Eileen:** Horrible, Sam. How dare you.
> 
> **Sam:** Ha they're amazing. You just have to make them right.

He hesitates for a moment and then takes a deep breath and types:

> **Sam:** Next time you're in the area I'll make you one.

He hits send and lets out a little shaky breath. She's so easily spooked. He knows hunts have taken her all over the country. Surely she must have skirted the bunker one or two times by now. But he'll keep asking for her to come visit even if she never says yes. In the cold light of the bunker Sam has always told himself that he's just making sure she knows that she can claim her legacy, same as the Winchesters. The bunker, despite Dean's insistence, is not a private home and it should be open to any hunter or budding Men of Letters that require it.

Eileen doesn't reply right away so Sam shoves his phone back in his pocket and resumes his run, deciding to go longer. He jogs down to a little stream that carves its way through a soybean field and down into thicket choked hills.

His phone pings again and he half falls over a root as he pulls it from his pocket.

> **Eileen:** You're on.

Sam grins and his heart rate kicks up a to a wild drumbeat. He presses the phone to his chest for a moment, feeling intensely ridiculous for feeling this way. His life is, as Dean often refers to it, an ever-erupting shitshow of problems. Still, he texts her back.

> **Sam:** Looking forward to it.

As he puts his phone away he doesn't resume his run just yet. Instead, he turns over the events of the past few weeks. Learning that his mother worked for the British Men of Letters came as a shock. But he truly had been impressed by their satellite operation. They innovated, they improved on old practices, and they carefully studied their quarry to an extent that Sam has never felt able to do with John's and later Dean's act fast, reflect later approach.

Together with Dean he'd tried to make bold, sweeping changes to the world. Sometimes they succeeded; more often Sam thought they failed. The world was still dark and violent and monsters still killed people in the shadows. He's accepted that his life will be spent fighting the good fight. On darker nights he tends to agree with Dean's expectation of an early, violent death for both of them. On the worst nights Sam wakes feeling warm and safe, with the memory of Jess wrapped around him only to remember that he's alone.

Even if the British Men of Letters' astonishing pronouncements that they will end monsters in America is true, Sam suspects he'll never be able to retire to a patio and grillset. When you grow up fighting it becomes a part of you, woven into your muscle and splined between your bones.

Last week he helped the Men of Letters sort out a pack of werewolves in Ohio and everybody involved on the assault team walked away without a scratch – not even a bruise for their trouble. It felt easy. It felt hopeful. Maybe this time it'll work. Maybe this time the bold move will actually win the day instead of screwing the Winchesters further into the muck. Sam keeps hope stoked in his chest; it's what keeps him going. The day Sam's hope dies, he knows he might as well be dead too.

Sam looks down at his phone, thumb teasing the last message notification. He itches to write to Eileen and tell her about the Brit's promises. There are two things holding him back. The first is that, like him, Eileen grew up in the life. Even if all monsters were to suddenly blip out of existence Eileen would likely still spend the rest of her life reading the headlines with a suspicious eye and packing weapons just to go to the grocery store.

Eileen might work with the Men of Letters if Sam told her about it. After all, he convinced her to buy a green smoothie, all on her own. Those two things shouldn't be comparable, but he knows why she asks him for help, why she listens to him, why she'd join him. Something is blooming between them, slow and careful. She'd join even if it was just to protect him just as he thinks Dean might, given enough time.

The Men of Letters' methods may save them all. That's why Sam took the leap in the first place. But he's been burned far too many times to want to pull his entire life into something that may just as easily implode. Mary's already firmly embroiled in the Brit's operation. Dean is, even if he won't admit it yet. Sam can't bear the thought of dragging someone else precious to him into a potential crucible.

With a heavy sigh he shifts his thumb from her message, drops his phone in his pocket, and starts to run.

**Author's Note:**

> Sam fans! How was this? It's my first time trying standalone Sam POV. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
